


the pieces of you and me

by hooksandheroics



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Childhood Friends, Childhood Sweethearts, F/M, Fairies, Fluff, Light Angst, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-10-25 17:12:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17729369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hooksandheroics/pseuds/hooksandheroics
Summary: A collection of oneshots and prompt-fills.Come over to my tumblr prompt tag and send me one. Linkhere.





	1. dream a little dream of us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ladyfriday](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyfriday/gifts).



> hey!
> 
> this is a bit of a writing exercise to get me back into the groove of things. you can give me prompts and i'll try my best to fill them, the link is [here](http://hooksandheroics.tumblr.com/tagged/prompts). they're all going to be short so that they're achievable.

Scott should really absolutely be pissed off right now.

The weather app forecasted heavy rains and he’s only brought his large umbrella. The apartment has a leak in the ceiling just above the refrigerator, the exact same spot his cat Porkchop takes over everyday to assert dominance and for sure has knocked the bucket over.

It’s almost midnight, there’s almost nobody left inside the café, and it’s _raining cats and dogs_ , and yet.

And Scott has mastered the art of looking impatient – which is vital in his line of work. People abuse small businesses like his just because he’s open until eleven and he’s near the town library. The art of looking like he’s about done for the day without saying the words is effective in any situation, even outside the café – and yet!

He doesn’t even know her.

She’s brunette, she has green eyes, her nose has been buried in this book for a couple hours now ever since she came in, and beside her sit two large suitcases that’s probably worth a month of clothes, at least. She looks quite positively _tired_ , so why is she not going home? Why is she still here? And why is Scott letting this beautiful stranger stay just because he feels like he might never see her again?

He is puzzled.

So he starts arranging chairs and tables, hoping that the commotion makes her look up from her book and alerts her to his current dilemma.

It’s only as he’s wiping down the table to her left with as much noise as he can manage that she refocuses her attention to him.

 _Those are gorgeous eyes_ , he thinks silently in his silent mind because it’s creepy to tell a stranger that. _And that’s a gorgeous smile_. She reminds him of summer afternoons at the beach, bare feet in the warm sand and a huge hat. A stranger reminds him of that, how odd.

“I’m sorry,” she tells him like she’s been aware of his thoughts. “I just… this is a really good book and it’s raining.”

“It’s closing time, miss,” Scott tells the stranger. “Do you need help getting home?”

He thinks it’s probably that or she’s really out here trying to annoy him.

She bites her lip in contemplation and Scott wishes she’d stop because it’s not good for his sanity. She puts her book down, a piece of the café napkin stuck between the pages where she left off, and gives him a shy smile.

“I actually do,” she replies. “I’m – I’m not actually new to town, it’s just really been a long time since I last came here.”

He blinks. “Oh, welcome back. I can call you a cab?”

She laughs under her breath and it takes him back to the breeze tickling the chimes to a lake house, some childhood memory buried within his mind, between recipes for strawberry shortcake and chocolate pie that his mother had taught him.

“It really has been a long time,” she says. “Scott Moir, right? Your grandpa used to own this place.

He tilts his head in confusion. “Excuse me?”

The beautiful stranger takes a deep breath and her smile widens. “Tessa Virtue,” she tells him. “We were neighbors. You probably don’t remember but I broke your arm in second grade.”

“I –” and oh god, the onslaught of memories renders him speechless for a good minute.

Tessa Virtue, the girl with strong arms and an even stronger determination. Tessa his best friend. Tessa, probably his first love. His first kiss, too, probably. Tessa who left when she got a ballet scholarship in Montreal. Tessa, his first heartbreak.

Oh god, it’s his Tessa.

Without even thinking about the wet towel he was wiping the table with, he gathers her into his arms and almost tips the table over. “Oh god it’s you,” he murmurs against her strawberry-scented hair.

“It’s me,” she replies and she sounds just as relieved. Of what, he doesn’t know, but it feels like she’s come home, somehow. That’s _his_ relief. It’s a piece of his heart coming back from her journey.

“I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you,” he says as he pulls away, but keeping her close. “It’s been what – almost fifteen years.”

Her eyes twinkle in the flickering lights of the street outside and she looks as bright as ever, as if his mind held onto the memories of her for this exact same moment.

She nods. “Almost, yeah.” She might not be aware but she’s playing with the ends of his hair and – what’s the protocol on thinking about kissing a long lost childhood sweetheart after a decade and a half apart? Does she even remember _that_ kiss? Does she even remember that they were essentially boyfriend-girlfriend when they were kids?

“Are you – that house by the curb, is that where you’re staying? And for how long?” he asks, and he’s aware that he’s firing her a lot of questions but he doesn’t care.

“Actually, no,” she says, looking down at the collar of his shirt. “I got an apartment down Halfield lane. The red-brick one, it’s pretty nice, actually.”

 _No_.

“No,” he breathes.

“Sorry?”

The universe is playing him right now. This can’t be happening. This means he has to constantly clean his kitchen and living room and his bedroom too, probably. And he has to keep Porkchop happy or he’ll howl all through the night and disturb –

“That’s where I live, fifth floor.”

“Oh! 5C, that’s my – and yours?”

“5D,” he replies. “Just across the hall. What a –”

“Coincidence,” she finishes for him, and her smile is so bright it might just be seared into his brain. He knows for sure that that’s what he’s going to be thinking about all night tonight. And kissing her, probably.

He’s staring at her and it’s going to get weird in a second so he tells him about his cat and she laughs and before he knows it, he’s closing up the café and lugging one of her suitcases on one side and trying to keep her under his large umbrella with an arm around her.

She laughs at him telling her he knows every crack on the pavement like the back of his hand, challenges him to walk with his eyes closed, and then inevitably splashes himself (and her) with rainwater from a rather deep puddle.

The hallway is quiet because it’s past midnight, save for the creaking of Tessa’s suitcases. They stand by their respective doors still giggling about how wet their jeans are. When she bites her lip in thought, his whole brain halts.

“This is…” she starts, and then restarts. “You believe in fate, right?”

Does he? Right now, there’s no other explanation. So yes, he does. “I do, now.”

“Good,” she nods. Her suitcases are past her door but she’s still standing there and Scott figures the ball is in his court now.

“Coffee tomorrow morning,” he tells her, half a smile on his lips as she shoots him a grin. “On me.”

She nods. “I know a good place down the street.” Her door closes and he’s left standing there.

And then –

“That better be _my_ place, Virtue.”

He’s answered with the laugh that he’s been missing for fifteen years.

He really does believe in fate.


	2. 'til the sun comes up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for tisaqueen on tumblr!

Tessa would bet all that she has in her bank account that when Scott finally gets to her hospital bed, he’s going to be frowning, and it would look so hilarious and adorable and heartbreaking all at the same time. He would sit by her side and softly take her good hand before saying,

“I told you moving out was a bad choice.”

All a joke, all to make her laugh. And she would laugh. And then she would say, “Thank you for coming.”

What Tessa would not bet on is if he’d stay.

The doctor said it could be a concussion, she’s advised to stay the night until it’s safe to assume she had nothing else damaged except her arm. They’d called her husband, the doctor had added. He said he’s on his way and that he didn’t sound like he cared about speed limits, so he’d be here any minute. Tessa tried telling them that there was a mistake – _no, he’s not my husband, he’s just – we were engaged and then we weren’t_ , she would have said. But the doctor had nodded at her and exited through the curtains like a Shakespearean actor in a tragic comedy.

Tessa would laugh if she weren’t in pain.

She must have dozed off for a hot second there because the next thing she’s doing is waking to a warm hand placed over her eyes, blocking the harsh lights from the ceiling, and a solid weight to her left side, almost squishing her. But it brings comfort like a blanket against the cold, sterile air of the hospital.

“They said you fell,” a hushed voice says to her ear, and if she were more alert, she would hear the tremble in his voice. But she isn’t. “I tried to get here as fast as I could.”

Scott pulls his hand away and Tessa squints against the assault of brightness into her eyes. She turns her head to stare at him with her squinted eyes and sees that he’s still in his hockey jersey, cheeks flushed from the cold, and eyes rimmed red and swimming with worry.

“What time is it?” she asks because she’s not ready yet to find the reason behind the broken look on his face.

He shakes his head and takes a deep breath. “I was so scared.” The hand he has on her stomach trembles lightly, a contrast to the weight of his words. “I told you moving out was a bad choice.”

There it is.

She wishes he’d said it the way he’d said it in her imagined scenario. So then, it would be funnier, and she would try to laugh the sinking feeling in her gut away.

“You were in practice,” she argues. “It wouldn’t matter.”

Some time ago, between the hand over her closed eyes and the crack in his voice as he tells her about her bad choices, she had turned over to face him as if they were three months younger, and there was a ring on her finger, and it was a nondescript winter night.

She could still picture a night just like this on their bed.

She wishes she couldn’t.

“It would.” The fight in his voice is wavering, but the grip he has on her good arm is steady. “I would have stayed home. I would have helped you put up the decorations. Like I had, the last ten years. I would have, Tess.”

A tear escapes his bloodshot eyes and it drives a spike through her heart. He had been _terrified_ , deathly so, and for the first time in three months, Tessa wishes they were back on that bed and dreaming about the future like they were so sure about it.

“I thought you hate me,” she says, and in her head, it doesn’t sound like a question. In her head, there are no tears.

Scott shakes his head at her, light brown eyes piercing through the roar of malignant voices in her head. “You know I never could.” His hand comes up to trace her cheekbone, taking in her errant tear and smearing it against her skin, erasing it from existence. “I tried,” he says, giving her half a smile. “But I couldn’t.”

What was it that her mother had told her? It was right after Scott proposed and she said “I’ll think about it”, and the next thing she did was call her mom.

“Honey,” her mom had told her, and Tessa could hear the smile in her voice. “That’s all Scott knows. That he loves you with every fiber of his being. All you can do is accept it because you feel the same.”

“What if I’m not ready?”

“Tell him and he’ll respect your decision,” Kate replied. “Are you not?”

“I think I am, mom.”

 _All you can do is accept it._ That’s what her mother said. _Because you feel the same._

Right now feels like that all over again. Right now feels like looking into the abyss hoping it’s not as endless as it seems.

But it also feels like letting the pull of the waves take her under, not to fill her lungs with water but with peace. She’s been fighting against it for so long, she forgets why she was even resisting in the first place.

Scott’s eyes watch her patiently, still wet, still red. Still with his heart on his sleeve like she hadn’t broken it before.

“Can you stay here?” she asks. “Tonight?”

He nods. “You don’t even have to ask, T.”

*

Christmas day finds Tessa in her kitchen at 8 in the morning, trying to nail a fruit cake recipe, while Scott is in the living room trying to erect the tree that her cat keeps knocking over.

“If this doesn’t stay upright for more than half a day, I’m locking your demon cat in the bathroom and forget about him,” he says as he walks into the kitchen with his sleeves rolled up his arms. “What’s cookin’, good lookin’?”

Tessa turns around with a roll of her eyes, wiping the messy gloop of a batter on her apron. “Something inedible,” she replies.

He laughs and walks over, wrapping his arms around her waist like he doesn’t care about the gloop. “You’re trying your best and that’s enough for me,” he murmurs, closing the distance between them.

Tessa puts a stop to his advances with a finger to his lips. “You will regret your lines when dinner rolls around and there’s nothing on the table that’s not going to give you diarrhea.”

“Tess,” he says around the finger she still has pressed against his mouth. “Call it adaptation, but my stomach’s been tolerating your cooking for ten years. It can survive.”

“I hate you,” she tells him, trying to get out of his embrace. She gets to turn around, but his arms tighten around her and she stumbles back into him, her back to his chest.

“You do?” he breathes into the skin of her neck. “What about that proposal I was planning on doing later tonight?”

It sounds like a normal question, but Tessa has known Scott for ten years and she knows every crevice of his soul. She knows of his fear because it reflects hers.

But this time –

“It’s still going to be a yes,” she replies, smiling when she feels him press a relieved sigh to her hair. “But are you sure you want to have my failures everyday for dinner?”

“Yes.” He sways them on their feet, almost vibrating with joy. “Everyday, ‘til death do us part.”

Tessa shrugs. “That’s not going to take long.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> their prompt was: "you’re my emergency contact and i’ve been in an accident so you drop everything to come to the hospital"


	3. until that day comes along

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friends don't drive hours in the middle of the night for a grieving friend and lie to them about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for alaina, thank you for being my late night buddy.
> 
> for tara, who deserves all the good rest and sleep and health.

He doesn't know how he does it. Sometimes, he just finds himself in the middle of it all.  
  
It's one foot in front of the other most of the time, but when it comes to her, it feels like there's no ground underneath him. It's white noise around her laugh, a blur around her face. When even the most beautiful skylines try to catch the attention of his eyes, they see nothing but her.  
  
And it feels like seeing again when he spots her at their usual booth in that one diner.  
  
_It's late, you don't have to come._  
  
_It's literally a fifteen minute drive, I'll be there._  
  
_Thanks, Scott._  
  
_Don't worry about it, T._  
  
It's that moment -- seconds before speaking in front of a crowd, thinking about cue cards and talking points, when suddenly, the chimes disturb the somber stillness of the diner as he enters, and the cue cards and talking points fly out of the window.  
  
It's been five years, seeing Tessa Virtue again, and under these circumstances, will never find him ready.  
  
When he sits across from her, he marks the deepening of her frown as it morphs into a friendly smile. It feels too friendly, like something you give someone you only see once or twice a year. And friends do not drive hours in the night to see another friend and lie to them about it. Friends do not leave a warm bed for a cold car.  
  
Friends _do_ visit friends who just lost their spouse. And that's what Scott is here to do tonight, to be with Tessa as she grieves.  
  
Perhaps, share a drink and talk awhile.  
  
He doesn't know how he finds himself in the middle of it all, but all of a sudden, he's cracking jokes and making her laugh -- and then he's pushing it, and she just laughs. She even cries a little bit, clutching at his outstretched hand like a lifeline, and the strength with which she grips at his fingers belies the truth of her pain.  
  
He doesn't want to say he's sorry. She doesn't need it, not when everybody else has already given it to her. Sorry will not bring her husband back, sorry will only remind her of what she could have done. What he does is tell her about Macy.  
  
His daughter, she's just turned three. It's been a rough three years being a single father, but Macy will share her baby cereal with him, feeding him with her little spoon like he does with her, and it reminds him that despite the noise and the rubble, when it quiets down, it makes everything worth it. Macy is amazing, he hopes to introduce them one day.  
  
"I would love that," she replies, as quiet as his mind.  
  
This is the moment he catches himself plunging into the void:  
  
He gets up from his seat and occupies the space beside Tessa. He sits and gathers her into his arms and lets her sob, her warmth and his making a space right there between them for all that is unsaid, for all that is waiting to be felt, for all that is waiting to be done.  
  
"I love you," she murmurs against the collar of his shirt. "Thank you for doing this."  
  
He laughs a little. He hugs her tighter.

It was a nondescript diner somewhere in Ontario, in the middle of the night, and this is where Scott takes the plunge.


	4. young and old, scared but bold

Scott loves secrets, Tessa had discovered pretty early on.  
  
7am and his smirk as he looked over his shoulder to where an inconspicuous paper bag sat. Inside were pieces of chocolate from Belgium that his aunt had given him to share with her, despite Marina's strict instructions.  
  
The dark of the porch where they both stood to cradle a dirty lost puppy they found on the way home, his eyes wide and pleading for her not to tell his mom because his brother was allergic.   
  
Breeze through her hair as they drove through some highway at midnight at top speed. The radio played a quiet guitar and something inside her teenaged brain clicked into place. When he looked back at Scott to catch the tailend of his fond stare, the feeling traveled to the ends of her fingertips and at that moment, she wanted nothing but to touch the smile on his lips.  
  
Tonight, though.  
  
Fairy lights blur at the background of her focus, into blots of white and yellow. She opted to lose her heels about halfway through the reception and she could not be more grateful for the feeling of cool grass underneath her soles, a tranquil contrast to the warmth of his hand around hers.  
  
The speakers play a soft melodic guitar to a song with lyrics like fireflies floating around the little bubble they have around them.   
  
People are talking, probably. Someone's calling her attention. Scott's little niece is napping on his brother's lap. Their friends tease them from afar.  
  
But his eyes are on hers and they are swaying to the best dance they will ever dance, perhaps the twinkle in his gaze is not from the fairy lights.  
  
"I know we already made our vows," he says, and his eyes shine with mischief. "But I have more."  
  
"Now?" she asks, not minding it at all.  
  
"Now." He nods, and his smile grows. "Tomorrow. Two days from now. A year. A decade."  
  
The wind picks up something warm and cool at the same time, like spirits dancing around their legs. He's opted to lose his shoes in solidarity, and she loves him all the more for it, more than what is probably allowed.  
  
"Are you ready?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Tessa Jane," he murmurs against her forehead. "This is a promise to your soul, to the lengths it has travelled to meet me. This is a promise to your heart, to the wounds and scrapes and bruises it has endured to love me. This is a promise to your mind, to the depth it has carved into me.   
  
"I promise to work all my life to be worthy of everything that you have ever done for me. Our children will never know a second of their lives that they haven't been loved. I promise this body, this soul, and this mind to you. And this love that will outlive the both of us."  
  
His voice cracks in the middle of it all as tears run down her cheeks. She feels the beating of his heart underneath fabric, fast and steady and lovely against her palm.   
  
There's a billion things in her mind right now, all running and circling and if he isn't holding her this close and letting her know that he is there, she would have torn this whole place down just to find him and be enveloped in his arms.  
  
When the words find the back of her throat, threatening to spill, "no I'm no worthy, no I am nothing," he pulls them back in her mind with nothing but a light squeeze to her hand.  
  
When she looks up at him, he is smiling down at her as if the wind is running through her hair as they speed through some midnight highway.   
  
In a way, at that very moment, they are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sleep deprived and i just want to get this out of my head before i try to get some z's. if it has mistakes, pls forgive me. this was written on my phone at 2:30am.


	5. i found my way home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tessa, Scott, and an angry wood nymph who wants their first born ASAP.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen to ride home by ben&ben on spotify! this is also dedicated to emma (onlyskyaboveme).
> 
> this is fantasy, but i had fun writing it. hope yall like it! don't forget to kudos or comment to let me know what you think.

Scott Moir is an Ilderton native, and Ilderton is the most beautiful place on earth, if he does say so himself.

He grew up watching his grandfather make furniture in their garage and maybe even help sometimes, when his old muscles could not lift the heavy pieces all by himself anymore. If he were asked what got him into furniture-making, it would be those early memories of trying to contemplate patterns and design carved into wood, or maybe just the way his grandfather would tell him intricate stories about the trees he used to make them.

His childhood was just that – wood, the sun, and a little girl named Tessa.

When he was ten, a family moved into the house right across the street from his. They had a daughter named Tessa, two years younger than him, who had the most beautiful green eyes he has ever seen. He would still swear by that today, even at 31.

Tessa was shy and a little bit aloof, but if he got her to laugh, it would be just that the whole afternoon. Tessa, Scott, the little pond at the back of their house and her laughter bouncing off the waters as if there had been nothing but silence before her.

Did he know that she would be his first heartbreak at twelve years old? No.

They were children and to Scott, the idea of _forever_ was real and insoluble. They even made a promise, he and Tess, that they would go back here twice a year every year – once on her birthday, and the other on his – to throw a piece of rock together and say their wishes. Kids and their traditions.

That first year, she wished for a notebook that never runs out of pages so that she could write and become an author. He wished for the trees around their neighborhood to grow so that his grandfather could make more chairs and tables.

The year after that, she wished for a puppy. He wished for his aunt to get married to a nice guy.

And then one fall morning, she moved away.

His little heart broke into a million pieces at the Virtue’s front porch as he tried not to beg for her to stay. He could remember clearly, she was crying, too. She scraped her knee while learning how to ride a bike the other day and she still had the band aid he put there, and he wanted to tell her that he still got more of those pink band aids at home – if he could just spend two more hours with her.

But their car was loaded, and her siblings and Rosie the terrier were all inside waiting for her. When she said goodbye, he pursed his lips and nodded, trying not to cave at the look of disappointment on her tear-stained face. And then that was it.

For twenty-one years, there was nothing in that house, not even a soul.

Did he know that twenty-one years later, he would be kneeling at the pond at the back of that abandoned house with the very same Tessa Virtue, begging a wood nymph to let them go?

No.

But here they are.

He hears her sigh beside him, wisps of warm breath reaching the surface of the pond. When he looks at her, she’s looking back at him with an amused expression, much too amused for his liking. She’s still beautiful, that much is true, but does he really know this woman beside him except for the fact that they were cursed by a sprite all those years ago?

“I can’t believe you sold our first born to a wood nymph.”

The sheer _audacity_.

“I’m sorry, Madam Author,” he calls, trying to keep his tone hushed. “If I remember correctly, you were there, too.”

She slumps her shoulders and shrugs. There’s tension in her that belies the easiness she’s trying to pass off. “Your aunt’s wedding, yes I remember.” She moves to sit on the grass as if resigning to a night of waiting. “It was magical.”

Scott snorts, doing the same. “Too magical.”

Tessa chuckles. “Yeah.”

She’s an author now, he tells himself. All their wishes had come true. She lives in Montreal now, and she’s got this amazing book coming out in the next month, the third installment to a very intriguing trilogy. Scott knows, he’s bought two copies of each of the first two books and has read them more times than he cares to reveal.

When she returned to Ontario, she said it was because she was trying to chase inspiration, whatever that means.

And Scott, he tried his best to stay away.

She’s a big city girl now, she’s got all these huge companies vying for her attention. If he so much as looks at her, he’s going to fall back in love with her as if twenty-one years have not gone by. But she came into his workshop this afternoon saying, “I’ve got this really crazy idea about a chair that I want you to make”, and then the twenty-one years vanish before his eyes.

There stood his first love and she’s clutching the very first notebook she ever had, beaming at him.

“I didn’t know you were into woodworking,” he had replied.

She wasn’t.

It turns out that she really wasn’t – it was the wood nymph.

The wood nymph gave her this irrational idea that she could design a chair, the wood nymph made her dream about going back to Ilderton. The wood nymph literally tried to put them together like a weird, green, smelly Cupid.

Scott looks up at the towering tree just across the pond in front of them and squares his shoulders. “So, now what? Do you want us to have sex right now?” he yells.

He hears Tessa hiss his name but he’s tired and it’s been a long day catching up with her and trying to make the chair that she designed on the paper of her notebook.

The mystical voice answers back, sounding rather annoyed. _“You can, but it won’t be comfortable.”_

Scott curses under his breath and glares at the tree while Tessa negotiates. “Is there something we can do instead of… of giving you our first born? Something that’s within our capacities.”

_“I give you all your wishes and you can’t give me my one and only?”_

When Scott offered to reminisce at the old pond with Tessa this evening after a non-date dinner at his workshop, he didn’t anticipate a large tree ambushing their non-date to reveal to them that they are practically indebted to it. He wonders briefly if he could cut the tree, will the curse end? He’s got the best tools in his truck right now…

“And if we really can’t?” she asks at the same time he also wonders if she’s really _that_ repulsed by the idea of being with him that she’s trying to get out of it without even asking.

_“You really love your dog, right?”_

“Rosie?” she says in this tiny voice. He knows that she does, maybe more than her own life.

_“And your aunt is still married?”_

Shit. Fuck. He _knew_ this was going to happen.

Scott huffs. “Okay, asshole. There’s no time limit, right?”

_“You mortals like to take your time when it’s literally what’s killing you. But sure, whatever. I just need a child. Preferably a female, but any would do.”_

“A female?!” Tessa shoots up from the ground.

_“Females rule a kingdom better than males. But as I said, any would do.”_

He can see that Tessa’s ready to commit violence, but he’s not really sure what she’s going to do. Punch the tree? Slap it? Kick it? She’s going to end up hurting herself, either way, so he takes her arm and gives her a look and it silences her for a while.

“I have a plan,” he murmurs. And then, to the tree: “Give us time. Babies don’t happen overnight.”

 _“Mortals.”_ The tree hisses. _“Here are the rules: neither of you can leave this town, you will live under one roof, and if you so much as even think of deceiving me, all the things you asked from me will be taken back. That means your dog and your notebook, and your aunt’s happy marriage.”_

“Got it,” Scott replies as he drags Tessa towards his truck. As soon as the doors are locked and they’re about a few kilometers away from the cursed pond, he reaches across the gear to hold her hand and squeeze it. “I’ve got a plan, but you have to trust me.”

“Are you going to impregnate me?” she asks, but there’s an exhausted smile on her pretty lips.

“Even better,” he replies, smiling. “We’re going to defeat that tree.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know i know, it is kinda open ended but i just had this one thought that i talked about with emma (onlyskyaboveme) and it just sprouted like this. anyway, tell me what you wanna see next in this universe.
> 
> comments and kudos are highly appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! comment or kudos, i'd love to hear about your thoughts.


End file.
